


The Secret Life of the Small Town Radio Host

by madziraphale



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil's Fashion Sense, I'm so happy that's a tag, M/M, POCecil, flustered Carlos is the best Carlos, weenie boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4183212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madziraphale/pseuds/madziraphale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early on in their relationship, Carlos suspects his boyfriend is hiding something. Cecil's secret is a huge shock for his scientist boyfriend...though not necessarily a bad one. Set in a peaceful place near the beginning of Cecil and Carlos's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret Life of the Small Town Radio Host

The first thing Carlos noticed upon waking was the lack of body heat next to him. The scientist groaned and rolled over, cracking one eye open and then the other. He wouldn't admit it out loud (not until much later into their relationship, at least) but not waking up to Cecil's adorable sleepy face--with his mussed hair and the little bit of drool that always managed to sneak out the side of his parted lips--caused a little sliver of sadness to wedge its way into his heart.

Due to numerous scientific observations over the course of their relationship so far, Carlos concluded that more than ninety-three percent of his "good days" began when he woke up next to Cecil. So, scientifically speaking, Carlos preferred those mornings over all other mornings. 

Carlos turned back to his side of the bed to reach for his glasses on the night stand. What he grabbed first, however, was a small slip of paper. Confused, the scientist reached again for his glasses and checked the bedside clock when he slid them up his nose. The red letters read "What would ever make you desire to keep track of how soon the sinuous hands of death will take you? Pretty morbid if you ask me" Carlos was surprised he'd slept that late. After one last yawn and a stretch, the scientist turned his attention back to the note. 

The first thing he noticed was his own name written in Cecil's glittery purple script. Carlos smiled fondly and even blushed a little at all the hearts scribbled around it. He unfolded the scrap of paper to reveal even more hearts and a brief message. 

_My Dearest Carlos,_

_I am deeply, deeply sorry that I do not have the honor of waking up next to you this morning, but I had some very important business to attend to._

_There's coffee in your mug in the microwave if you'd care for any. You're more than welcome to stay and wait for my return, but, if you don't, maybe we can go for lunch later?_

_You can either text me, or tell the sentient ficus in my living room. They'll relay me your message._

_All my love,_

_Cecil_

Carlos stared at the note a little longer, deep in scientific thought. Then, something occurred to him, and he reached over to the night stand once more to retrieve his phone. He let out a rather loud "a-ha!" when he noticed the date on the top. It was Saturday, just as he thought! If his daily journal entries were anything to go by (and it was a  _scientific journal,_ thank you very much, and  _not_ a  _diary_ like all of his team had accused it of being), every Friday night that Carlos fell asleep next to Cecil, the scientist would wake up alone the next morning. Immediately, Carlos went into science overdrive, hypotheses shooting like lightning across his brain. 

Quickly as he could, the scientist leapt from the bed and dressed, hopping down the hallway as he pulled on his left sneaker. 

"Lock the door behind me, please, Faceless Old Woman!" he called in the general direction of Cecil's living room, where he knew she was likely rearranging his boyfriend's record collection. When the door shut behind him, Carlos shot off in the direction of his lab, so wrapped up in his calculations that he had forgotten he'd driven to Cecil's the night before. 

In his extreme haste, Carlos narrowly missed getting hit by Leann Hart--who had stop sign immunity for the month--as he crossed the street. The scientist made a sharp left into Mission Grove Park, knowing the detour would shave about five minutes off his time. As he reached the break in the treeline that lead to the park's grassy picnic area, a personal favorite date spot of Cecil's, a very familiar voice caused Carlos to stop short. He listened again to be sure he'd heard properly, and when the voice sounded again, he knew he wasn't mistaken. 

Clandestinely moving from tree to tree, Carlos peered out into the open space. What he saw nearly gave him sensory overload. 

A small crowd of Night Valeians (including some of the angels) was gathered in the field with Cecil standing at the head, facing them. A sticker-covered boombox sat next to him. Each person had a mat laid in front of them. A  _yoga_ mat. By the looks of it, they were currently in warrior pose. Soothing music pored from the boombox, and, after a few seconds, so did Cecil's voice. 

"And...relax. Excellent work, everyone! Erika, it looks like your form is really improving!" Towards the back of the group, one of the Erika's fifty-or-so eyes crinkled, as though they were smiling. "And now," Cecil continued, "let's all move into downward dog." Carlos nearly choked when he looked back at his boyfriend. 

Cecil was in perfect form, hands and feet flat on his mat, and  _oh boy had it been this hot when he'd left Cecil's?_ Carlos tugged a bit at the collar of his flannel. The radio host had his long, lavender hair tied in two pigtail buns, each with a different colored scrunchie. His crop top was patterned with glittery unicorns, but, in Carlos's opinion, his shorts stole the show. Cecil was wearing the shortest fluorescent green gym shorts Carlos had ever seen on anyone. Ever. The word "cutie" was emblazoned across the butt. 

The scientist felt as though his face would melt off when the group shifted into child's pose. He gripped the tree he was hiding behind tightly, eyes not once tearing away from his boyfriend. Part of his brain scolded him for being a voyeur, but a larger part of his brain told him that Cecil _was_ his boyfriend after all, and, technically, it was his  _duty_ to watch over his boyfriend.

After what felt like an eternity, Cecil stood up straight, stretched, and dismissed the class. 

"I'll see you all next Saturday!" he called, waving good-bye as he gathered his things and began to walk...directly towards his boyfriend. Carlos panicked. He thought about his options. He could confront Cecil and try to explain why he'd been hiding behind the tree watching the radio host like a total creep. He could try to run, but Cecil would likely see or hear him in his hasty retreat, meaning he'd have to make the choice to be a jerk and keep running or turn and face him anyway--

"Carlos? Is-is that you?" the question hit Carlos like a freight train, and all his possible escape plans fled from his mind. The scientist looked up to see Cecil approaching, his smile a mixture of nervousness, curiosity, and glee. Carlos wondered if Cecil always looked like an absolute glistening vision on Saturday mornings, or if it was just this particular Saturday that his boyfriend looked even more unearthly stunning than usual. The scientist struggled to form a coherent sentence. What he planned as a cool, casual, greeting turned into something more along the lines of a rattling wheeze. Carlos groaned inwardly. What was he expecting? Cool and casual had never been his strong suit. 

"Yoga?" the scientist finally managed, feeling relieved that he'd managed to fill the silence. Cecil, to his surprise, turned a (very adorable) shade of pink and studied a tree root. 

"It, um, it's a stress reliever," Cecil replied, "Every Saturday morning for...well, for as long as I can remember, I would come out here all by myself and do my stretches and chants. I mentioned it to Josie one time over bowling, and she asked if she and the Erikas could join. I guess you could say it kind of snowballed into something bigger." Carlos just stared at him, watching a drop of sweat make its way slowly down his boyfriend's cinnamon-colored cheek. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" the scientist asked. Was yoga another one of those illegal things in Night Vale? Cecil shuffled his feet, ruffling his sunny yellow legwarmers in the process.  _  
_

"I...well..." the radio host trailed off and muttered something. Carlos sighed, reaching out to gently grasp his boyfriend's hand. 

"Take your time, querido," the scientist said with a smile. Cecil's eyes grew cartoon-ish in size behind his horn-rimmed glasses, his blush darkening. Taking a deep breath, Cecil continued.

"I thought you'd think it was weird. And-and boring. Because, well, yoga isn't all that scientific...what with the mantras and the inner-peace bit--even though the search for inner-peace is essentially pointless in the face of our inevitable demises and-" Cecil's ramblings were cut off by a chuckle from his boyfriend. The radio host immediately clamped his mouth shut into a deep frown. Carlos looked up and, noticing his mistake, tried desperately to curb his giggles. 

"Cecil-oh-oh, _honey_ , no, it's...it's... _Galileo's beard_ , babe,  _that's_ what you were worried about?" Cecil nodded, a bit stiffly. Carlos finally was able to stop laughing, but a beaming smile remained on his face. "Babe, I don't care that you do yoga. Well, I mean, I  _do_ care, but only because it's  _you_ doing it. And, in a sort of way, yoga is very scientific. But, that's not the point. The point, Cec, is that you shouldn't be embarrassed about something you love to do. If it makes you happy, then, well..." Carlos rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand before looking up to meet his boyfriend's eyes, "then it makes me happy." 

Cecil fought a very difficult battle against the urge to swoon that threatened to take him over. He managed, somehow, but he failed to contain the enormous, dopey smile from his face. 

"Oh  _Carlos_!" he cheered, sounding for all the world like a love-struck heroine. Carlos gave him a lopsided grin in response, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. The scientist's cheeks were about as red as Cecil's had been before.  _  
_

"Oh, and, um, Cecil?" Carlos asked shyly, looking up at his boyfriend through his long eyelashes. Glow Cloud above, that look just  _did things_ to Cecil. 

"Uh-huh?" came the taller man's articulate response. To his surprise, Carlos tugged him closer by their conjoined hands. Cecil stumbled a bit over one of the tree roots that  _certainly_ wasn't there a second ago, and Carlos steadied him. The scientist ended up grasping his boyfriend's lower back, half of his hand on warm, still-damp caramel skin, the other half on the waistband of Cecil's shorts. 

"Scientifically speaking, you look  _really hot_ when you do yoga." 

As the radio host and the scientist kissed against a tree in the middle of the park, Carlos mentally catalogued all of today's new information to be analysed at a later date.  _Especially_ how cute Cecil's butt looked in his shorts.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends! So, this is my first ever Night Vale fic, and I'm pleased as punch to bring it to you! I've unfortunately lost track of the tumblr post that first brought to my attention the idea of Cecil and yoga, so, to you, random blogger, I send my thanks. I hope you enjoy! Comments are very much appreciated. 
> 
> And, hey, thanks!


End file.
